


After Me, the Flood

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Bad Moon Rising [5]
Category: Alias (TV), Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Crossover, Dark, Gun Violence, I told you repeatedly they were killers, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-18
Updated: 2006-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: In another hotel room, something that isn't sex or wrestling, but several endings and a new beginning.
Relationships: Chris Keller/Julian Sark, Chris Keller/Other(s)
Series: Bad Moon Rising [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942621
Kudos: 1





	After Me, the Flood

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Dark. Violence, murder. (Not them -- they're fine. They're hard to kill.)

Blue eyes dilated under the focus of a matching pair. Cold and sharp as death, cutting both ways.

Chris felt the strain of sinew forced under his strength, wrenching in the wrong direction entirely. 

It didn't hurt at all. Well, didn't hurt Chris, anyway. 

The unforgiving twist of another's body, his wrists knowing the path like it was ingrained in his blood. An extension of himself. Bones snapping with swift ease. Familiar movement. The death of a pulse under his fingers, throat losing breath forever. Once you made the decision, it only took a second.

A little bit longer if it was a fighter, Chris admitted to himself, knowing he'd be feeling some pain of his own soon.

Right now, he couldn't taste the blood from his split lip. He didn't feel the soreness from the punches and kicks that he had brought to an end using brute strength and proximity. Knew it had to be fast. Close. He couldn't slip and fight and move with that fucking ninja grace his alley boy had. He had his own grace. A different type. Overpowering. Had to move in for the kill. That's where he knew how to twist and trap and manipulate a body like it belonged to him. He could overtake anyone on the mat, close enough to control and cut off the flow of feet and fists.

No longer a person. A body, sliding to the floor. He let it drop, not one to be dragged down by dead weight. He stooped fast to swipe the gun falling from nerveless fingers before it hit the floor. Strings cut.

The sounds of struggle hadn't stopped, though. His grip was just as steady and familiar with the feel of the light gun, balancing strangely with the silencer. That, he wasn't used to. 

His arm followed the movement through, arcing up to the bodies still fighting. Two on one.

Time to even those odds.

Not that alley boy really needed it, Chris realized as he took in the scene, trying to get a clean shot. 

Chris had seen Jules half-fight up close, tracing his lethal edge in play. This wasn't the same. Julian’s clean-cutting viciousness was laid bare, used with all its force. He fought hard and dirty, but made it look like a dance. Chris could almost feel the dull snap of that other neck under his own palms. His hand twitched with it. He watched the brief tug of that crooked lip, eyes on Chris's for the same beat. An amused acknowledgment of the companion move that had cut three-on-two down to two-on-one, down to one-on-one. 

Chris wasn't a good enough shot not to hit the blonde when those bodies were writhing together. Breathing sped up, violence tethered, he had to just watch for a second. Restrain himself. Wait for an opening.

Julian's hair was mussed like always, but with that same tiny difference. Sweat on his brow as his body fought. A thousand little things signaling the difference, telegraphing that something was wrong even without the men fighting. One of those expensive and crisp looking button-down shirts hung wrong on Julian's lean frame. Un-tucked and abused, wrinkled and wrenched, buttons snapped. 

Julian didn't do this kind of disheveled. Not from fucking, but from real strain.

"Yo!" Chris called out to throw off the third, and only remaining, attacker. His threat was alive in his voice. Julian's eyes had been half-tracking Chris the whole time, so he didn't even flinch. The attacker had had his hands full with Chris's boy, and he made a misstep. 

Ouch. That fancy kick must've hurt. A flick of Julian's wrist, a hit turning easily into a hand reaching out towards Chris, eyes locking.

_Gun, please._

He didn't have to say it out loud. Chris could practically hear it anyway. Right down to the calmly polite, accented _please_.

Chris, still without a sure shot, tossed it.

It was caught easily, even as Chris closed in, just in case.

Julian didn't need his further help, though. 

The small muffled sound of silenced shots ended all fight just as surely as a snapping neck. 

The body fell fast, with a thud similarly muffled on the thickly expensive carpet of the hotel.

He would feel the landed blows soon. They both would. He'd been running on adrenaline and muscle memory since the hotel room had been crashed. He looked down at the blood on his wife-beater, spray from the last body on the floor.

Jules followed his eyes, looking bemusedly apologetic.

Mess all over the floor. 

Could he outrun this shit? Three new bodies.

Those thoughts didn't come until know. 

Time to dig.

But Julian's lips quirked in that not-quite-smile. Strained and hard. Julian would use the word ‘displeased’. (Chris would say ‘pissed the fuck off’.) But in that elegant way Jules resorted to when he wasn't coming undone in Chris's arms. He was feral then. He was calculating now. 

Moving already (still), sliding a case from under the bed, rounding up his few belongings. Julian never unpacked more than he was actively using. Chris never brought anything at all. Besides lube and condoms, that was.

"I don't remembering ordering these from room service. Must've come for you." Chris thumped the body at his feet with his boot.

Julian nodded, like it wasn't even a question. It wasn't really. Sure, plenty of people had gunned for Chris at one point or another. But they didn't slip in like this. Didn't wear all black and carry silencers and move like Julian.

Julian had better not think he was fucking getting away without bending his back with a shovel right alongside Chris. However dirty it got his nice duds. "We've got to take care of 'em."

He still had the shovel.

"We could. Or...." Julian never stopped moving, even as he ignored the bodies. Just stepped around them. He caught Chris's eyes again, though. "How do you feel about travel?"

Chris's life was travel. A fast car, a thrumming bike. Moving with the cons, outrunning the mistakes and graves.

He shrugged, sharp grin tugging at his own mouth. Still some of that adrenaline left over. Enough to keep him reckless. To make him not think. Not care. Like always. Follow your blood, follow your cock. Mistakes happened. He was always just one step ahead of bars anyway. Always on the tail of a rush. He was nothing but rush and need.

Julian's strides brought him close enough to taste his sweat. And he finally stopped moving, like he hadn't since they had been interrupted by company. "Have you ever had occasion to visit Europe?"

Matching sharp grins. Matching blue eyes. Kept that fire in his blood, that pull in his dick, that made it make as much sense as anything.

"Don't have a passport." He was done with being still, moving in to catch that mouth, that crooked lip. Got a firm grip on the back of Julian's neck to make it count.

He could taste the blood now. 

So could Julian, the way his tongue darted out to steal it from Chris's lips as he pulled back an inch. Tasting the lingering shot on the air. "It could be arranged."

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I think this was the last bit of this series I ever wrote, and I think it works well enough to end the start of their story. I assume after this they joined up and tore through the world together, rather than just randomly meeting up. The world should be very afraid.
> 
> Title taken from a song I listened to while writing it - "Après Moi" by Regina Spektor


End file.
